


(Don't) Take A Moment To Think

by ghxstprince



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex needs a hug, Angst, Gen, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Oops, Strong Language, Thomas needs a hug, You Decide, aaron needs a hug, alexander/thomas can be platonic or romantic, and fluff who am i kidding, disassociation mention, i wrote this because of a steven universe song, it's lafayette, james needs a tissue, major anxiety mention, panic attack description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghxstprince/pseuds/ghxstprince
Summary: In which Aaron Burr really likes working in the library, and finds a friend that needs some help.





	(Don't) Take A Moment To Think

**Author's Note:**

> spot the lyric references: easy mode  
> believe me, i was not subtle at all lmao  
> enjoy! : D

Aaron Burr has always liked working in the library. He finds it easier to unwind there; it's a place where the quiet is neither awkward nor tense. It's just... calm. Peaceful, even. If he happens to get paid for enjoying the silence, well, he's not complaining. The atmosphere in the old, grandiose building never fails to relax him, even after being relentlessly pestered by a _certain someone._

The same _certain someone_ who has been ignoring him for the past little while - not that he's noticed, or cared. In fact, he's been enjoying the peace and quiet that's settled around his life since Alexander threw himself into his work. It's a frequent occasion, so Aaron knows that he has nothing to worry about. So he doesn't worry. In front of Alexander, anyways. He's not stupid, and he knows that there's something different this time, he just can't _quite_ put his finger on it.

Ah, no matter. If he's in trouble, he knows that his friends will help - Aaron included. They're not enemies as you might think - the opposite, actually. Aaron thinks of Alexander with somewhat reluctant fondness, and considers him to be a very, very good friend. Infuriating, but a friend nonetheless. He has a habit of worming his way under Aaron's skin and getting on every nerve that the poor man has, but he also has a habit of redeeming himself. Whether it's showing up at the library the next day with two coffees in hand and a sheepish smile, an apology letter taped to his door, or Alexander himself showing up at Burr's dorm with his favourite movie, apology written clearly on his face. It was like a routine - they'd argue, apologise, become friends again, and then start it all over a week later. They'd argued about a month ago, and the apology stage was just a little delayed. Perhaps Burr should take it upon himself to start it this time...

As he said, no matter. Okay, maybe it _does_ matter, but Aaron can't afford to think about this right now. Being the only employee on duty for the rest of the day, he has a library to run. It could wait until his dinner break. So... four hours. That's a reasonable amount of time - he can finally get some stuff done. Which he does. In the four hours he has to wait - which he does _not_ count down - he loses himself in his work. Aaron successfully organises the library's mail, sends out several overdue book notices, and emails the business' primary delivery company about the order they'd put in a month ago. He's in the science fiction section, in the middle of putting all of the recently returned books back in their correct places when he hears _it._ Several heavy thuds in succession - Burr can't keep count of how many there are, exactly - that are the tell-tale sound of books hitting the carpeted floor. He almost drops the one clutched in his right hand, still outstretched towards the awaiting shelf. _Almost._ Luckily, he catches himself before it falls, glancing at the polished cover as he does. _The Butterfly Effect._ Yeah, he counts himself lucky for catching it.

Burr pauses and takes a breath to calm himself and his racing heart, then slides _The Butterfly Effect_ into its rightful place, and promptly abandons his cart of returned books to investigate the noise. It's moments like these where he finds himself thinking of things that he probably shouldn't be thinking of - usually for his own wellbeing. In the present moment - with the library filled to the brim with a tense, looming silence - the only thing crossing his mind is, perhaps, the cheesiest horror movie trope to ever exist. The one where the heterosexual white couple are making out in the abandoned, obviously haunted place where a mass murder was committed several years ago. However, this doesn't bother them - until they hear a noise. Then, the very macho, very white male of the couple foolishly goes off to investigate, only to die a horrible, tortuously painful death. Again, Aaron takes a moment to calm himself. Of course that wouldn't happen; _he's neither macho nor white._

He makes a few twists and turns as he thinks, not really knowing where his feet are taking him. He knows that it was nearby, but... well, he's not a miracle worker,so he turns down every aisle he passes - just in case. Eventually, he reaches his destination, and the sight in front of him makes him stop in his tracks. A small man is sitting crossed-leg, hunched over on himself on the carpeted flooring. His eyes, usually a warm, lively brown, are glazed and unseeing. Toppled books surround him, and a faded, well-used, green rucksack has been dropped unceremoniously, notebooks and the like spilling from the side. He feels his heart twist at the sight, and wills himself not to let it show. He approaches cautiously, and try as he might, Aaron's voice cracks when he speaks. 

"Alexander?" A pause. "Alex?"

The brunet doesn't answer - doesn't move, and Burr fears the worst. He hasn't been told to leave yet, so he moves closer, crouching down in front of his friend. At this proximity, he can see the range of light freckles dotted across Alex's face, fading into the unnatural, unhealthy pallor that has overtaken him. The ever present bags underneath his eyes are a deep, shocking purple, and Aaron's breath catches at the sight of them. He _really_ hasn't been taking care of himself lately. Hesitantly, in an attempt to try and comfort the man, he stretches a hand forward slowly, aiming to move a tendril of dark, greasy hair out of his face. The reaction is instantaneous, taking him by surprise.

Alexander lashes out, fingernails scraping over Aaron's cheek, and he dimly registers the sting that they leave behind. Burr scuttles away, staring in bewildered silence as his friend curls into a ball, hyperventilating and shaking, each exhale a sob that shudders through his whole frame. He feels his own hands begin to tremble, and he lightly brushes his fingers against his wounded cheek - there's a little blood. How long has it been since he showered - let alone cut his nails? Hurt and concern twist together and bloom inside of his chest, and before he knows it, he's leaning back towards his friend.

"Alex- Alex, please. Alex, what's... what's wrong?" He gets a broken sob in response. His own throat closes up at the sound, and, as if that was the trigger, his own tears roll free. He doesn't bother wiping them away - not even when they mix with the scratches on his cheek. He can't worry about himself in a time like this.

"Alex, I... I want to help, but I don't..." He stops. "I don't know how!"

He gets no response and desperation pricks at his throat like the thorns of a flower, cutting into his oesophagus and he can't _breathe_ and his hands are shaking, he can _see_ them shaking; are they supposed to do that? He stops. Closes his eyes, and steps outside of himself for a moment. It's a skill that he's learned to master over the years - that's he's _had_ to master. So he steps back, calms himself down, and then reinserts himself into the situation.

His hands aren't shaking as badly as they were before - good. Aaron manages to bring out his phone, fingers tremoring over the screen as best as he can manage. He fidgets, anxiously waiting for the person on the other line to pick up, the repetitive ringing banging around inside of his head. Finally. The voice on the other end crackles with static and annoyance, briefly pushing through the fog in his head.

"Burr? What is it, I'm a little busy."

His own voice is scratchy and unfamiliar, tumbling from the gurgle of dread in his throat, "S O S. Library. It's Alex."

"I'm on my way."

He hangs up, leaving Aaron with his phone pressed flush against the side of his cleanly shaved head. He only stares at what his friend has been reduced to, a chilling, numb feeling sludging its way through his veins. Swallowing thickly, he puts his phone away and takes a moment to try and find himself again - it doesn't work. However, that doesn't deter him from trying, and failing, once again to calm Hamilton down.

It's some time later when the door bangs open - he's not sure how long. It feels like hours, days, but it was probably just minutes - he's surprised how fast he arrived, given that the man was in the middle of a lecture. Burr stands and takes a step or two back, calling out to his friend. His voice sounds odd and far away, as if he's not actually in the room where this is happening; like he's underwater, but he can't feel the water filling his lungs. A strong, dark hand on his shoulder snaps him from his reverie, and the man in front of him comes into focus. When did he find them? Oh. His mouth is moving, he should be listening.

"-at happen? The scratches, I mean. Did he..." He looks to the side, glancing at the now still form of Alexander Hamilton; Aaron nods mutely.

The taller man sighs quietly, taking his hand back and running it over his face. He nods, as if making a decision. "James is on his way, he'll help you clean up. Laurens should be free as well, and I know that he'd want to help."

Burr finally finds his voice again, managing to croak out a single word. "Thomas-"

His friend shakes his head, curls bouncing wildly. "Don't, Aaron. Trust me, okay? For once, believe that you can trust me." Aaron can only nod in response.

Then, without a beat of hesitation, he makes his way over to the huddled form of his friend, and crouches in front of him. His voice is slow, southern drawl curling over his tongue and dripping down from his lips molasses slow and sweet as honey, a low, soothing tone that washes over Aaron like river water; almost enough to cleanse him of his disassociated state. Almost. He doesn't hear much of what Jeffeson is saying, only catching bits here and there - he does his best not to eavesdrop. Whatever he is saying, though, seems to be the right thing, because Alexander soon uncurls himself from his crumpled position, only to recurl himself around Thomas' torso - much like a koala.

Taking it all in stride, Thomas glides to his feet, and strides out of the library, keeping a firm, comforting grip around Alex. He smiles at Burr as he passes, whispering, "He'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry, Burr. Jemmy will be here soon. I'll see you later." With that, Thomas and Alexander are gone, leaving Aaron alone again.

He's not sure how long he stands there in the quiet, letting the tension leave his body as the silence washes over him, each wave bringing in a new sense of calm to drive out the ominous atmosphere that once surrounded him. Before he knows it, James Madison stands beside him, sniffling as quietly as he can into a tissue.

"Aaron," he greets warmly.

"James," he smiles, turning to the other, smaller man. "Are you sure you're fit to help?" He shakes off the last bit of remaining tension, embracing the warmth of the man beside him with open arms - metaphorically, of course. The man is always sick, and Aaron really doesn't fancy being stuck in bed for the next few weeks. "You sound sick."

He laughs at this, "When don't I sound sick? Thanks for the concern, but I'm perfectly capable of helping. Laurens should be here soon, anyhow."

"Alright," Aaron agrees. "Let's get started, then."

He bends down and wraps his fingers around-

-the door handle, doing his best to pull it open without dropping the man in his arms. Small as he may be, it's not exactly easy to carry someone and open a door at the same time. Why won't it open? Thomas grunts quietly in frustration, trying in earnest to pull open the door. For _fuck sake why won't it open_ oh. Of course. It's... It's a push door. He feels his cheeks burn and quickly pushes through, entering his dormitory building.

He usually covers the stairs in a few strides, but today, for obvious reason, he opts for the elevator. Momentarily surprised when the doors immediately open when he presses the button, Thomas finds himself rushing into the already closing doors. Man, they need to stay open longer! Alexander shifts in his arms, and he finds one of his hands automatically reaching up and tangling in the smaller man's hair, smoothing through the long, dark strands, and effectively lulling him back to a peaceful sleep.

Who knew an elevator could take so long? He sighs quietly, untangles his hand from Alex's hair, and pulls out his phone again. How? He doesn't know. Nonetheless, he sends a quick text and shoves it back into his pocket, immediately placing both hands back on Hamilton, giving him the support he needs to stay up.

Jefferson didn't know what exactly went through his mind when Burr called him. He'd been panicking, of course, several horrific scenarios running through his mind, but there'd been something else, too. Of course, it's nothing that he wants to focus on - at the moment, anyway - so he doesn't. Instead, he patiently waits for the lift to bring him to his floor - five - and slides through the opening doors with an admirable grace.

Opening his door is a feat that he's proud of - juggling a small, sleeping man, a set of keys, and opening a door at the same time isn't easy. Once they're inside his dorm, he finds his shoulders automatically slumping in relief, his breath rushing out in a puff of warm air that stirs Alexander's hair. He hums under his breath as he moves through his room with ease, depositing Alex into his own bed softly. When he turns to leave, however, he hears a soft, croaky voice call out for him.

"Thomas?" He sounds so _timid,_ it makes Thomas a little uncomfortable, if he can be honest.

"Alex?" Wow, clever. He gives himself a mental round of applause, turning back to face the man in his bed.

"Where... Where are you going?"

Thomas wills the spikes to stop jamming into his heart as he gazes at Alexander, in his bed, too nervous to look at him and fiddling with the edge of his duvet. "I... I was going to let you sleep."

"I'm awake now!" His response is rushed, and he immediately sits up straight to to feign alertness - but Thomas can see the exhausted slump in his shoulders begging to drop again. He pauses.

"Okay." He sits on the edge of his bed, chasing the pattern of the purple sheets with his index finger. "If you're awake, I want to talk." He can practically _feel_ Alexander's revulsion to the idea, but presses on anyways. "I'm not going to push you," he stops. "But... I think we should talk about it." He looks up, catching the other's dark eyes in his own.

"Okay." It's a whisper, barely audible, but Thomas takes it.

"This has happened before, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Did you... Know it was going to happen?"

Alexander hesitates again, mulling words over in his head before he speaks. "Not exactly. I could tell that it was... getting worse, so to speak, but..." He trails off into a shrug, picking at a stray thread.

"Getting worse?" He nods, so Thomas continues, licking his lips first. "How... How long have you known? That you were feeling like this, I mean."

A small pause. "A month or so."

"Alex, you... You should have told me!"

The other man laughs sharply, looking at the wall. "As if."

"What?"

"Well, you weren't exactly approachable, were you?" He turns his gaze back to Thomas, eyes shining. "Until today, I thought you utterly despised me! For fuck sake, you-"

Thomas interrupts him, voice soft. "I don't despise you."

There's another pause, as if Alexander is deliberating whether to say what's on his mind or not. "I don't hate you, either."

They elapse into comfortable silence again, minutes flicking by slowly on Thomas' digital alarm clock. He should probably get a new one soon. This one is... Well, it's very near broken. He grimaces at the thought, imagining it failing to go off one morning.

"I texted Gil about ten minutes ago."

"No." There goes the comfortable silence.

Alexander is immediately tensed up again, shoulders as close to his ears as they can get. Thomas, unfortunately, opens his big mouth again.

"I asked him to come get you. He'll be here in an hour or two."

"Thomas, you... You should have told me!"

"And what, wake you up from the first good sleep you've gotten in what - a month? Two? I'm not sorry."

"Thomas!"

"What?" He stares. "I'm not." His gaze softens. "I want to help, Alex. So do they. You need to let people start helping you."

Hamilton huffs, turning his gaze to the wall. They sink back into silence again, but it doesn't last long. Unlike last time, Thomas isn't the one to break it.

"How did you... How did you know what to do? And to say?" When he looks back at Thomas, Alex's gaze is soft, open and curious.

"I, uh... I used to get them too. Panic attacks, I mean." He swallows harshly, looking away. "I'm not too good with people. They would happen if... Whenever I was around people I was trying to impress mostly. That, and big crowds. I tried not to do it in front of people; I was... embarrassed. If I said something, or did something that wasn't charming, everything I'd ever done like that - that had failed like that - suddenly swarmed me... consumed me." He gulps.

"Oh."

"Yeah." He pauses, licking his lips again. "Mine aren't... weren't like yours - from what I've seen anyways. I used to... lose my sense of touch, if that makes sense. Everything went numb, and I just- I couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. Everything just got so overwhelming and I would," he hesitates, "disassociate so badly, I never thought I'd come back." He looks back at Alex, "Sorry, you probably didn't-"

"No." It's his turn to interrupt, and he shifts, bringing his knees up to his chest. "I... I did. I think I needed to, if that makes sense." He swallows thickly, brushing his hair behinds his ears. "You were right when you said they were different. For me, it's..." He stops, clearly finding it hard to get the words out.

"Alex, you don't have to."

"I want to, Thomas. I trust you, and I want... I need to get this out, I think." Thomas waits for him to continue, and he does; eventually. "For me, it's like I lose my sight. Everything narrows down into black, and I can't see. Everything is dark, and blurry, and all I can hear is the- the thoughts, whirling around in my head, and they're so _loud,_ " his voice breaks, and Thomas finds himself reaching for the smaller man, who let's himself be held.

They shift positions until it's Thomas leaning against the head of the bead with Alexander on his lap, fingers threading through his hair again.

"They're so loud," he repeats, "and they're non-stop; Thomas, they don't _stop,_ I just want them to stop," he sobs, pressing closer to Thomas' chest.

He shushes the sobbing man, murmuring reassurances. "Just take a moment and find yourself. I'm right here, Alex. It's okay, I promise. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here." He goes quiet, running his fingers through the quieting man's mane. "I'm here."

His breathing eventually evens out again, and, despite his resistance, Thomas himself feels himself going under. He sighs happily, burrowing closer to the lump of warmth on his chest, and falls asleep.

And, when an hour later, Gil opens Thomas' door as quietly as they can, they're both lying down, curled around each other as if they'd fight off the world before they let it hurt the other. Lafayette, who had been beside themself with worry, only closes the door and informs their boyfriend, Hercules Mulligan, that no, he _doesn't_ have to go punch Thomas Jefferson.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! whew, that was a ride, huh? so this is my first work in this fandom (or any fandom, actually) and i would really appreciate some feedback/constructive criticism! this hasn't been proof-read because it's 1 am so,,,, yeah. if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and i'll fix them as soon as i can! thanks for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!! : D
> 
> also, if you want to know the song that i listened to while writing this, then i'll leave the link below! it's also the song that inspired this whole thing so : D!!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHg50mdODFM


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